


Plastic Fork

by talesandthings



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions Of Schizophrenia, Paranoia, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 09:37:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16616489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talesandthings/pseuds/talesandthings
Summary: The voices tell Matt to protect Foggy. So he does.





	Plastic Fork

**Author's Note:**

> There has to be a reason why Matt was hearing voices right? This is inspired by a TedTalk I was watching yesterday where a lady was telling the audience about her experience with schizophrenia.

“He’s in danger. You have to protect him, son,” says Matt’s dad. His voice clear as day, at the foot of Matt and Foggy’s bed. “They’re going to kill him. You don’t wanna lose him like you lost Elektra. Do you, son?“ 

"No,” whispers Matt. He presses his body even closer to Foggy’s back and tightens the grip he has around his waist. Foggy’s breath and his heartbeat are steady but Matt could hear his own rapid heartbeat. 

“No. Not like that. Go outside and take guard. It’s the  _only way_ to protect him." 

Matt knows his dad is right. He’s always right.

Matt untangles himself from around his boyfriend and heads out into the living room. 

He tries to search for the chest, that housed his Daredevil costume and billy clubs, with no success.

"You don’t need those toys, kid when you got knives in the kitchen.” This time it isn’t his dad but Stick who speaks up. 

Giving up on his quest to find the clubs, Matt heeds Stick’s advice and heads to the kitchen to look for a knife instead. 

A frustrated growl escapes Matt’s lips when he runs his hand over the cutlery in the drawer and finds plasticware instead. “Dammit, Foggy!" 

"Oh stop whining, you piece of shit." 

Matt tightens his grip around one of the plastic forks when he hears Stick’s voice again. 

"You can still do a whole lotta damage with that fork." 

Matt hates to admit it but Stick’s right. He can easily stab them in the throat or gauge their eye out with the fork when they try to attack Foggy. Matt takes one of the plastic forks and heads back to their shared room again.

He gets into a cross-legged position on the floor, tightens his grip around his weapon, and he lets his fists rest on his knees as if he was about to meditate.

"That’s my boy. I am so proud of you, son.” Matt’s lips twitch at the praise from his dad. “Stay here all night. It’s the only way you can protect Foggy. You hear me?" 

"Yes, sir,” Matt replies with conviction. 

Matt doesn’t know what time it is but he’s been keeping his focus on all the sounds around the building. Every scream of the police siren kicks him into alert. No threat has come so far. But it will. Matt knows it will. 

At some point during the night or it could be morning, the sirens die down. The whole city goes unusually quiet. 

But the creaking of floorboards puts Matt on alert again. He tightens his grip on his weapon and readies himself to jump off the floor when the sound of a familiar heartbeat hits his ears. 

“Matt, what are you doing?" 

Matt turns his head to the sound of Foggy’s voice and says, "Go back to sleep, Foggy, You don’t need to worry. I’ll protect you." 

Matt hears a sigh from his boyfriend. Being the stubborn man that he is, Foggy doesn’t go back to the room. 

He instead gets down on the floor beside Matt. 

"Protect me from what, babe?" 

"The people who are trying to kill you." 

"No one’s trying to-" 

Much to Matt’s delight, Foggy doesn’t finish that sentence. He  _has_ to know that his life is in danger.

"Soooo…. let me get this,” Foggy says with a hint of amusement lacing his voice. “You were going to protect me using one measly plastic spork. Great plan, bud." 

"They’re more powerful than you know." 

Foggy lets out another sigh. Sadness tints his voice when he says, "No one is trying to kill me, Matt. Or Karen. Or your mom." 

"No!” Snaps Matt. “They are! Why won’t you believe me?" 

Foggy doesn’t seem to believe anything Matt says these days. 

"Okay, okay, calm down, Matt,” says Foggy, like he was talking to a wounded animal. “Give me the spork." 

"What? Why?” Matt asks suspiciously and pulls his hand away when Foggy tries to take his fork. 

“Because we’re in this together. For better or for worse. That was the deal.” The determination in Foggy’s voice makes Matt smile a little. There’s something else in his voice. Something that Matt can’t quite place. “So… let me protect you too. You can fight them off with your fists but I can’t. I need a weapon." 

Matt doesn’t hesitate. He hands it over. 


End file.
